Holy shite! He did it.



The ballad of Ube by Niño Bonett

The ballad of Ube by Niño Bonett

First excerpt

Ube could sometimes see his likeness on water, he’d heard his mother once call it a marror or something like that, he wasn’t sure, the sun had died 2.317 times since her departure, he knew his numbers alright, only one among the many secrets he had learned from her.
It was gradually becoming more difficult to get wood to fire the clay tablets but the desire to put down all that came to him was just too overwhelming, he often questioned the veracity of those principles his mother had so meticulously imprinted onto him, if as she had said; there were many others like them, then there must exist a place so big with some much wood that you could fire millions of tablets, imagine all those beings and every one of them riding the unquenchable fire of creation, was there really such a place? If so, imagine what a glorious sight it would be, all those wills manifesting and devising even the smallest spark that dared enter their sphere.